


If icicles form

by imminentinertia



Series: December 2018 [5]
Category: SKAM (Norway)
Genre: Canon Compliant, Future Fic, M/M, Power Outage, not all that likely in Oslo but roll with it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-23
Updated: 2018-12-23
Packaged: 2019-09-25 14:48:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,805
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17123381
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/imminentinertia/pseuds/imminentinertia
Summary: It's the night before Christmas Eve, when you decorate your Christmas tree and generally have a good, quiet time. Somehow.





	If icicles form

**Author's Note:**

  * For [himmelsky](https://archiveofourown.org/users/himmelsky/gifts).



> SKAMenger Hunt prompt filled: long johns (and a little blanket)

 

The tree is tiny, barely half a metre tall, but it fills up their room to the point where Isak feels like he walks into spruce needles wherever he moves. They pushed the table close to the wall and put the tree next to the TV, and when Even wants to have a cigarette he pretty much has to perform a small dance with the tree to get to the balcony door.

Still, it’s  _ their _ tree, like last year, it smells like proper Christmas and it’s great to have it in their own little flat, even though it will shed needles everywhere. Even borrowed a stool from his parents to put it on so they can actually see it. Not to mention stand upright when decorating it.

The first thing Isak does is fetch the shoe box and put his old string of stars around the upper branches.

It looks nice. It really does.

He has a nagging little thought about wishing that Marianne had kept it and used it, but she doesn’t buy a tree anymore and in a way, the stars belong to them both. It’s like having a little piece of her in his home, somehow.

Even slips an arm around Isak’s shoulder and squeezes just a little, gives his hair a quick kiss.

Isak can actually feel a little Christmas peace settling in him.

They put the lights on the tree before either of them thinks to test the lights, and of course they don’t work, so they have to untangle them again and test each bulb. The Christmas peace takes a break until they find the broken bulb, which of course is number fourteen of twenty.

Then everything gets nice and peaceful again. Even makes Christmas spice tea which tastes okay and smells great, and they put up the ornaments they bought last year. Even didn’t want to buy a pack of identical baubles, so he was in charge of buying single ones while Isak just shrugged and got a pack of silver tinsel. What’s more, they still have some of the questionable folded cones the girls made for the kosegruppe Christmas party.

It makes for a messy tree, but Even insists that Christmas trees are supposed to be messy and decorated with things you accumulate over the years.

Isak doesn’t have strong opinions beyond that he likes having a Christmas tree in their flat. He likes buying it and carrying it home and decorating it, with Even.

 

When they plug the lights back in, the flat goes dark.

It’s a disaster, Isak thinks as he uses his phone to light his way downstairs to the distribution panel. They killed the electricity in the entire building. The night before Christmas Eve, when everybody’s decorating and watching the traditional TV show. All their neighbours will hate them.

However, none of the fuses have flipped. Not in the panel for their own flat, at least. He can’t get to the others.

As he’s peering at the panel, three more neighbours come downstairs to look at theirs, one guy notably only in a towel and winter boots, and it’s a woman from the top floor who notices that it’s dark outside as well.

All the street lights, and all the lights in the neighbouring buildings. Everything is out.

Well, fuck.

It turns out there’s an outage in a few streets, and thank God for a working phone to read news with and get texts from the city council on. Power will be back as soon as possible, they promise.

Even lights a few tealights and then they sit on their bed with their still not cold tea and look at the small flames.

Now what?

 

Two hours later, they’ve exhausted the topic of “okay, so what did people do in the evenings before electricity”. Isak has pointed out that they should probably knit or mend some farming tools, while Even insisted that they should have gone to sleep at sunset in order to get up at dawn and feed the cows.

They’ve tried reading, but it’s too much of a strain on the eyes to read by candle light. They’re both constantly picking up then putting down their phones, since they don’t know when they can charge them again. They’ve contemplated going over to Even’s parents to spend the night there but not bothered, at least not yet. 

But it’s getting colder.

All heating in the building is electric, and the windows are none too tight. The little draft isn’t a bother usually, but now they’re huddled under their duvets and they would both very much like the heating to get back on.

With a small sigh, Even leaves their duvet pile and rummages in a drawer, coming up with the blanket his grandmother gave them when they moved in together. 

“I know it’s ugly, but it’s wool. You’re shivering. Here, let me…”

He tucks the puke green and mud brown monstrosity around Isak’s shoulders, then rummages some more.

“Oh no, Even. Not those.”

“They’re warm! Don’t be silly. There’s a pair for each of us.”

Isak will never understand how Even’s grandmother came to think that wool long johns are a suitable gift for her grandson and his boyfriend, but yeah, that was what they got last Christmas. Along with a bottle of wine that Even said was good but to Isak it just tasted like really sour grape juice.

And okay, of course they’re warm, but Isak hasn’t worn anything like that since he was eleven and refused to be dressed like a small child anymore.

With a sigh of his own, he pushes the duvets and the blanket aside and gets up.

Even has already stripped off his jeans and ripped the plastic off one pair of white long johns, pulling them on.

“A little short… They’re the same size, so yours should be okay.”

Isak pulls off his sweatpants and, sighing some more, puts on his long johns. They actually fit very well. What’s more, they don’t scratch. The ones he remembers from his childhood were horribly scratchy.

“Huh, they’re pretty soft. The ones mum and dad put on me made me itch like fuck.”

“Well, you didn’t have a full pelt between your skin and the long johns then.”

“Excuse me!”

“Baby, you’re hairy.”

“Am not!”

“In what universe is that anything but  _ a lot of leg hair. _ ”

“It’s… it’s just leg hair! It’s you who’s freakishly smooth.”

Even grins. 

“I’m pleasantly smooth. Just admit it. You like touching my legs.”

Isak pulls his sweats back on, over the long johns, with perhaps unnecessary force.

“I like touching all of you. Where you’re hairy, too.”

Even leans over and cups his face, thumbs stroking his cold cheeks.

“I like touching all of you, too.”

 

They have the bright idea of putting beanies and scarves on, along with their warmest wool sweaters, and cocoon themselves in duvets and blanket again. The soft candle light is flattering for the hideous blanket.

It’s not a disaster. It’s fine.

Isak puts his hand on Even’s thigh underneath the duvet.

“You don’t think they’re scratchy?”

“No, they’re fine. Really soft. Even with just a decent amount of leg hair underneath them.”

“Fuck you.”

Just like that, the mood changes. The air grows thicker. Isak’s hand on Even’s thigh tightens.

Even turns his head towards Isak, his eyes glittering in the candle light.

“Oh yes.”

Their mouths meet, just a little off so it’s more like the corners of their mouths before they get their angle sorted out, their tongues meet between their lips. Isak never tires of this, the dance their mouths do, the taste of Even.

And Even kisses him like he never tires of it either. His hands come up to touch Isak’s neck, run into his scarf and impatiently tug at it, get it out of the way. Isak shudders as the cooling air hits his skin, as Even’s big hand cups his neck and tangles in the hair peeking out from under his beanie.

He feels hot and heavy between his legs, his dick pushing at his boxers, his entire body is tingling as Even puts his tongue in his mouth, yanking at his hair, dislodging the beanie and throwing it across the room.

Even lets him go so quickly that Isak grows dizzy for a moment.

“What - “

“Just had to check that I didn’t toss it into a tealight and set it on fire…”

“Good point.”

Isak pulls off Even’s beanie and drops it beside the bed, safely away from any candle. Then he moves back in, touching his tongue to Even’s lips and feeling them stretch into a smile before Even opens his mouth again.

There are so many clothes. There are so many duvets, surely more than two. The blanket must have cloned itself or grown in size because it’s everywhere. They still manage to find each other’s skin. Isak’s hands moving under Even’s sweater and t-shirt, stroking his warm skin, Even’s hands under Isak’s sweats and long johns and boxers, grabbing hold of his ass. Isak has no idea how they ended up lying down, but he’s not complaining, because he can rub up against Even’s thigh and feel Even tilting his own hips up, grinding against Isak’s hip.

Just a few minutes ago Isak felt chilled to his bones, but now he’s burning up, the blood racing through his veins. Even’s hair feels damp, so he’s starting to sweat as well. Isak can’t stand it and throws off the duvet on top of him.

“Candles!”

Both of them stare wildly at the room for a moment, but everything’s safe.

So they dive back in.

The sweats and the long johns and the fucking boxers all snag when Even pull them down, so he has to peel one layer off Isak at the time, not bothering to push anything further down than mid-thigh. Isak happily rubs against Even’s thigh again.

Ow.

Okay, so the wool is indeed scratchy on certain parts of the body.

“Get those off.”

Isak lifts up a little and yanks at Even’s long johns, and Even complies, shoving them down, taking his briefs with them, and revealing his beautifully hard dick. Isak sinks back down with a delighted little groan, slotting in as if there’s nowhere in the world he belongs more, fitting perfectly against Even’s hip with one leg between Even’s, with Even’s dick against his own hip. 

Every movement sends little jolts through him, and he can feel that the slide of his dick against Even’s skin goes a little easier now, he’s dripping a little. It’s the same with the slide of Even’s dick against his own skin, he can feel the wet trail there and it sets him on fire, knowing Even is just as turned on as he is.

This never gets old. He could still be doing this fifty years from now and be almost overcome with how intoxicating it is that he turns Even on, he’s certain. There’s nothing that makes him more horny than knowing Even is, and he’s fairly sure by now that Even feels the same way about him.

The sweat-damp hair and the half-closed eyes locked on Isak’s face and the heavy breathing are strong hints, at least, that Even  _ loves _ doing this. With Isak.

Isak has stilled without realising it, just looking at Even, beautiful Even. His boyfriend. It hits him right in the stomach, as it sometimes does, that he’s Even’s  _ boyfriend _ and Even is  _ his _ and they’re  _ together _ and about to celebrate Christmas in  _ their own flat. _ God, he never gets over this, he’ll probably never stop feeling that fluttering now and then.

“Hey,” Even says, his voice deep and a little hoarse.

“Where did you go?”

“Uh, sorry. To the future, I think. Doing this with you fifty years from now.”

“What happened to minute by minute?”

Even smiles, touching Isak’s cheek gently.

“It turned into as long as I get to have you, I think.”

Isak immediately regrets saying that. It sounds vaguely ominous, and not at all in keeping with their one day at the time philosophy.

Even keeps stroking his cheek.

“That will be quite a while. I think.”

His eyes are clear and open now, and it doesn’t seem like he thought it was a scary thing to say, like Isak can see an end to this. And honestly, Isak can’t. It just came out wrong.

“Are we done thinking for a while now?”

Isak has to chuckle at that, and at Even’s hips lifting insistently up. Solemn moment over, okay. He goes for Even’s mouth again, kissing the smile, kissing his own weird thoughts away, grinding into Even’s hip so he forgets about it himself.

It’s quite difficult to keep thinking about the uncertain future while your beautiful boyfriend is basically holding you by your ass cheeks, spreading them a bit, and humping your hip. Even’s leaking for real now, Isak can feel the slickness of his precome getting spread all over the dip between his hip and his groin, and he doesn’t bother holding back a deep groan as he gives himself over to the feeling of Even’s fingers so tantalizingly close, of Even’s soft skin and hard hipbone against his dick, of wetness on his own hip and his own dick, slippery and wetly silky.

His pulse beats louder and louder in his ears. He can hear his own gasps, but only from far away.

And Even stops. He actually grabs Isak’s hips and lift him up a little.

“What did you mean, as long as you have me? Are you worried I’ll dump you?”

Fucking hell.

“No! No. It came out wrong. Please.”

Isak tries to get back to what he was doing, but Even has a lot of strength in those lean arms and Isak can’t move properly.

“You shouldn’t worry. I love you. I’m not going anywhere, promise.”

Isak could  _ howl _ with frustration.

“I  _ know. _ It was just, fuck, I don’t know. Trying to say forever without scaring you shitless, maybe.”

Even’s eyes widen.

Shit.

“Okay,” Even says, voice so low it’s almost a whisper.

“Forever it is, then.”

And he kisses Isak, hard, clutching Isak to his chest.

The air is cold, too cold, on Isak’s ass, but he’s heating up everywhere else again. It honestly takes nothing, just this, Even holding him, to make him burn.

So he moves again, kisses Even back just as hard, shoves his tongue into Even’s mouth, tries to show him with his mouth and his hands and all of his body that they’re here, now, forever.

Even strokes down his back, slipping his hand between Isak’s legs and his fingertips run over Isak’s hole. Isak groans, louder than ever, loud enough to make the neighbours hear what they’re getting up to, probably. He doesn’t care.

Between Even’s body and Even’s fingers, between the slippery precome and the insistent tingling in his dick, between the cold and the heat, he’s getting closer and closer. And closer.

Until it all rushes through his body, the blood roaring in his ears, the tingling turning itself all the way up to almost unbearable and he comes, tightening his thighs around Even’s and gripping Even’s arms so hard it must hurt.

He faintly registers that Even goes all tense against him, that Even’s dick jumps against him and that there’s suddenly a lot wetter and more slippery between them.

They both go slack in each other’s arms, trying to catch their breaths.

 

Light suddenly floods the flat and the fridge gives off a loud cough before it starts its usual low rumble.

Both of them blink and raise their heads in the harsh electric glare.

“Well,” Isak says, “looks like we don’t have to seek asylum with your parents tonight.”

“Apparently not.”

Even gets up, pulling up his underwear and the damn long johns. He turns off the lamp.

“I thought this was pretty cosy. All right?”

“Yeah, all right. It’s nice.”

Even gets back into bed, climbing over Isak and draping the blanket over their legs. The moment he’s all tucked in next to Isak, they realise one of the duvets is still on the floor.

Isak can’t be bothered to get up, he just wriggles about and turns in the bed and feels around it for the other duvet, dragging it up and wriggling back into place next to Even. It will be some time before the flat is warm again, he suspects.

Even curls up and moves around a bit, finding a comfortable position and putting his head on Isak’s shoulder, then he laughs, a short chuckle that rumbles in Isak’s chest too.

“I suppose this is precisely how they killed time in the evenings before they got electric light.”

 

**Author's Note:**

> Unbetaed and kinda hurried, as all these December ficlets of mine.
> 
> The title is from a Billie Holiday song, I've got my love to keep me warm ("Why do I care if icicles form  
> I've got my love to keep me warm").
> 
> I'm [skamskada](https://skamskada.tumblr.com/) on Tumblr. Come say hi!


End file.
